


Alexander and John Have A Drink

by vintage_salem



Series: The Secret (Sexy) Lives of Alexander and John [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Hangover, Historical liberties were taken, M/M, Our boys are drunk and silly, Rough Sex, Wine, Wine drunk Alex, Wine drunk John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_salem/pseuds/vintage_salem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes up one morning with a killer hangover and a sleeping Alexander beside him, and has to figure out how he acquired such an impressive love bite overnight.</p>
<p>Well, there really can only be one answer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a non-chronological, non-serious, non-historical accurate series of Founding Father love - because our boys deserve some fun times every now and then!

_Hnngh!_

John woke up with a start and winced at the bright sunlight streaming in through the clear window. His brain thudded painfully against his skull, and white-hot agony shot through his head as he squinted away from the morning light. 

Nausea flipped his stomach as he tried swallowing – but his mouth was too dry, his throat too parched, his breath too bitter…what he really needed was a sip of water, but the thought of consuming anything made his internal organs twist up in revulsion.

With concentrated effort, he lifted his head and rested it on a soft pillow that had bunched up between him and the wooden headboard. Even that slight movement caused his stomach to heave dramatically, and it took a few deep breaths to settle it. 

So, where exactly was he?

His stomach swirled viciously as he squinted upwards at the unfamiliar ceiling – wood beams were usually straight when they made up a roof, not swirling in some wavy pattern, correct? And if there were wood beams, that meant he was in a house, not a tent? Hopefully this swirling vision and disorientation were not indicative of a serious illness, but just symptoms of his raging headache, which was only amplified with the unavoidably bright light filtering in directly on his face. Meanwhile the cool sheets against his body were both a welcome relief against the pounding heat in his head and a reminder that he lay completely nude. 

John had to push past the harsh throbbing inside his head for a solid minute before he could place his location. The wood beams…the feather pillow…the soft sheets…Yes, yes, wait. He knew where he was.

He had been issued the errand of delivering an urgent letter to his fellow aide, Alexander Hamilton, who had departed their main camp some weeks prior to set up a temporary office as he negotiated with a local regiment moving northwards. Alexander had set up in the rather stately home of an older couple, both staunchly sympathetic to the Continental cause, and had been living there ever since. John had only received the occasional scribbled letter from him until he was given strict orders to deliver a document straight to the young West Indian. Under no circumstances, he was warned, should he let the letter leave his sight until it was in the hands of Hamilton. And John _leapt_ at this opportunity. It had been too many long days, too many lonely nights, since John had laid eyes on his clandestine lover, and visiting him with the formal order of hand-delivery was as good a reason as any to pack up and embark on a journey to see him.

Well, that now explained where John currently was. And that also explained, as he felt a rustling beside him and glanced over, the precise situation in which he now found himself.

Even with John’s bleary vision, there could be no mistaking his present circumstances. Alexander lay face-up in bed next to him, snoring lightly and bare-chested. Dried saliva crusted lightly at the corners of his lips, and his eyelids flickered against the streaming sunlight, but he slept on.

At this point, John was no stranger to waking up beside Alexander. In fact, he was now so used to having the smaller man nearby at all times that the past nights without him had been markedly colder than he ever remembered. But the exact details of what led Alexander to now rest beside him were not exactly clear…

The white sheets had wrapped around Alexander’s waist, and John just had to move them a little (mildly offended at the sensation of peeling the sticky sheets off his own bare skin) to confirm that Alexander was also completely naked. Well, completely naked except for his cravat, which was still loosely tied around his softly pulsing neck. And that cravat was not the only thing that adorned him.

A collar of dark speckled bruises encircled that slim throat, maroon bites decorating his slender neck. Dusky nipples peaked in the cool air of the morning, his chest prickled like gooseflesh. Love bites trailed down his sharp collarbone, circled one dark bud, and continued down to his shallow navel, now steadily moving up and down with each soft snore. The last bite slipped tantalizingly past the sheet, and it was only due to John’s very present fear of vomiting on himself that he did not lean over to pull the sheet farther down and expose Alexander’s slim hips.

(It would not be wise to purge one’s stomach contents all over one’s beloved, John reminded himself, as his fingers twitched towards the sheet’s edge.)

Squinting closer at Alexander’s relaxed face, John could see how cherry red his lips were – so deeply red, in fact, that John could’ve sworn they were bruised and bitten. In fact, his own lips felt unusually tender and swollen.

John glanced down and saw red scratch marks down his own torso – based on how tender his back felt against the cool sheets, he expected that he bared similar marks on both sides of his body. And Alexander was not the only one with decorations – just by bending his neck slightly ( _very_ slightly – the urge to expel his innards was still very real) he could see a rather large bite on his chest.

Just by bending his knees slightly, John could feel how his limp cock stuck tackily to his thighs. (Despite this rather uncomfortable sensation, John was partly relieved – he might not know the precise details of how he got here, but he knew exactly what this stickiness meant. He had the evidence of coupling right there between his legs…now if only he could remember the details leading up to and surrounding last night’s encounter…)

With a grunt, John propped himself up into a half-sitting, half-lounging position further up on the feathery pillow. Whatever modicum of grace he attempted to demonstrate was lost as a longer groan emitted from his throat, nausea and headache continuing their attack. He now could see the room in which he and Alexander were from a better vantage point – and whatever outstanding questions he had on why he felt like he teetered on the precipice of death were immediately answered by the room’s jumbled contents.

Empty wine bottles littered the vacant writing desk at the corner of the room and the floor next to John – he could count at least two bottles delicately balancing on their sides on that spindly desk, and two more were upright beside the bed on the floor. An empty wine glass lay fallen on the ground next to the desk while its partner sat upside down on the small bedside table next to John’s shoulder.

As he took in the surroundings – Alexander’s bite-covered neck, the scratch marks down his torso, his sticky cock dried with release, the empty wine bottles – the previous evening began to slowly piece together.

So… _that_ was what happened last night.


	2. Chapter 2

A glass of red wine rested next to the precariously balanced stack of papers, the bottle on the other side. Three flickering candles lit the otherwise dark room, illuminating the slight figure sitting before the desk, head down and hand frantically scribbling. The room itself reminded John of his childhood home – dark wood, rich fabrics, an ornate writing desk, and a luxurious-looking bed complete with a lavish spread. Reminiscent of his childhood to be sure, but nowhere near like the cramped tents and thin bedrolls to which he had recently been acclimatized. 

The man at the desk did not seem to notice John’s arrival. Rather, his furrowed brow and small frown indicated that he was wholly absorbed in the letter before him. 

“Perhaps you should like some company,” John grinned, leaning up against the doorframe.

Alexander Hamilton started with the sudden announcement and looked up startled, but his initial look of surprise was quickly replaced by a delighted smile. 

“Laurens! I did not expect to see you!” He pushed his chair slightly back from the desk, delicately resting his writing instrument on a small dish. He gazed at John with pleased wonder, and John could feel emotions of tenderness bubble from within his stomach.

Alexander did not look his best. His eyes were well past their usual “red-rimmed and glassy” appearance and now looked vaguely bloodshot and manic. His ordinarily fastidious clothing was rumpled as if he had been wearing the same shirt for the past few days, and his thick hair looked as if fingers had been repeatedly run through it in frustration. But it was still his Alexander who now sat before him, worried crinkle between his eyebrows now replaced with a brilliant grin.

“Did you say hello to Missus Cooke?”

John chuckled at his companion’s obliviousness – for one so sharp, he could so easily let lost in the mazes of his own mind.

“Alexander, their serving girl let me in.” He let out a hoot. “Did you not realize your hosts left you here? They had even written to me prior to my departure that they were off to visit Mister Cooke’s dear sister and her new grandchild. I was only a simple messenger after all!” He flourished his delivery for emphasis, and Alexander gave an embarrassed grin.

“Is that the sole reason you are here, dear Laurens? To dispatch another order for your tired friend?” His face had pulled into a serious expression, but the twinkle in those dark eyes indicated his pleasure.

“Mister Hamilton, please pity a tired messenger!”

Alexander laughed out loud.

“So it would seem that we only have each other for protection this evening,” Alexander smirked, and lifted his glass in a mock toast before raising it to his lips and draining it. As John watched, a single drop of dark red slowly made its way down from his bottom lip to his chin. Alexander was either unaware of the droplet or did not care, his attention completely fixed upon the man before him. John was fascinated, tantalized, and he moved forward to wipe it away.

“Join me,” added Alexander, not waiting for a response as he emptied the open wine bottle into a companion glass. “I noticed your lack of presence these past few days. It was most unsatisfactory.”

“And I you, Ham. The camp has lacked for loud volume and endless chatter since your departure.”

Alexander’s lips quirked upwards at the light tease, his fingers trailing the thin stem of the glass.

“I was told that I would not want for nourishment during my stay here…perhaps that offering extends beyond the pantry and into their wine cellar?”

Alexander tilted his wine, looking thoughtfully at John.

“Well, it would only be seen as support to the cause, of course. Offering the poor soldiers some refreshments…I daresay you are correct, Laurens.”

“Of course,” Alexander added. “This bottle is no more. I need to embark on another mission critical for our survival!”

Before John could open his mouth, Alexander had stood and dashed out of the room. And not two minutes later, he came back armed with multiple wine bottles.

“For the revolution…and quick messengers,” he said with a shrug in response to John’s delighted laugh. He poured the contents of the first bottle into the second glass and handed it over to John.

“Take off your shoes! Find comfort in our new surroundings!” Alexander insisted, brandishing the bottle for emphasis and John did just that. They settled down together on the thick carpet – Alexander had neglected to bring a second chair with him as well.

The second bottle of wine popped open, their glasses refilled again to the brim. Alexander gave a rambling toast to the merits of fine company and while flattered that he was considered part of this praised group, John took the opportunity to finish his glass of wine and start on a third. It was only fair after all…Alexander had had a head start.

 

“John, I must tell you…” Alexander collapsed into giggles, and John felt his cheeks flush. That _noise_ coming from his throat, that rare silly mood he was now in…he was definitely still a few cups of wine ahead of John, and now that John could feel the wine’s relaxing effects take over, he could only imagine how Alexander felt. Perhaps it would be wise to remove Alexander’s glass from his hands before…

Too late. The wine had not only relaxed John, but also slowed his reflexes. Alexander’s laughing fit combined with his compromised balance were a deadly combination, and he tippled over, spilling his wine all over his shirt. He looked up in shock at John, who had to bite his lip to keep from smiling (Alexander always hated being teased). The wine caused the white fabric to turn a deep red, almost creating a bloody effect on the slim man’s chest and stomach. But whatever fears John had about hurting Alexander’s honor were quickly assuaged by Alexander’s mirthful laugh.

“I am so wet!” Alexander giggled, and he awkwardly unbuttoned his now ruined shirt. Good thing for wine-addled reflexes, John thought, as he dazedly watched Alexander throw aside both shirt and undershirt. He now sprawled bare-chested in front of John, who had to shift his seated position to accommodate his own tightening breeches.

“And I have none,” Alexander pouted, lifting his now empty wine glass upside down as proof of his need for a refill. Upon picking up the second wine bottle, John realized that it was empty and shot Alexander a questioning look. Alexander grinned broadly and let out a singsong “Jooo-oh-nnnn!” in response, which was answer enough.

A third bottle of wine.

 

“John,” Alexander whispered. He clumsily straddled John’s lap, his full lips dark with wine, his breath heated against John’s ear, his bare back hot against John’s cool hands. “John…”

Head swirling with wine and the physical warmth of Alexander’s body, John had to clear his throat and drag his eyes away from that discolored mouth before he could respond, “Y-yes, Alex?”

“John…” Alexander’s expression turned serious as he steadied himself on John’s lap and peered into his eyes. John’s coordination was barely above Alexander’s, and he tipped precariously to the side with the shifting weight before using the ground as balance.

“Alex, praytell, _what_?” 

“John.” Lord, did John want to kiss those sweet red lips.

“John…I think you are _beautiful_.” 

Maybe it was the declaration, maybe it was the three bottles of wine, but John felt his heart pound thickly against his chest as he registered Alexander’s plaintive expression and sweet words. His own sweet Alexander, his true love, his brilliant star…who thought _him_ beautiful, while he so obviously outshone all… (Did anyone else know that he was a romantic drunk? Or was that just for Alexander that he got all soppy?)

Then Alexander’s somber expression suddenly flickered away as he burst into another fit of giggles, his teeth stained with red wine and his hands clutching John’s neck. John was still overwhelmed by love and adoration and slightly impaired coordination, and could barely register in time Alexander leaning over and plucking the wine bottle from behind him.

“Oh no…” Alexander gasped with mirth, lifting the most recent bottle of wine to the candlelight. It was empty.

He shot a look at John and waggled his brows. “A fourth?”

A fourth.

 

John reclined against the bed, fighting against the fourth bottle of wine trying to lull him into a stupor as the warm effects of the alcohol coursed through his body.

Alexander’s giggly demeanor had been replaced by an Alexander attempting to be very sensual, and he now leaned across the floor slowly winking at John. (If John were sober, he would want to record these many different versions of Alexander that he so rarely got to see, let alone in quick succession – the silly Alexander, the clumsy Alexander, the desperately-trying-to-be-seductive Alexander – but alas, holding a pen seemed impossible. Furthermore, if John were sober, he would be laughing at this Alexander’s winks – he looked more like sand had irritated his eyes than seductive, but Alexander was so _earnest_! God, he was helpless. And drunk.)

John himself felt simultaneously languid and aroused, desperate both to sink fully into the plush carpeting and to touch Alexander’s still-bare chest. Alexander seemed to understand his internal battle because he slumped further against the floor, shooting John a doe-eyed look of longing. His pink tongue peeked out and dragged lazily over his full lips as he kept batting his eyes clumsily. 

But whatever he was doing – even this odd winking – was really working for John right now. The wine, the soft carpet, Alexander so close, the fact that they were _alone_ \- truly alone…he needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

Pitching himself forward, John had to throw his hands out to keep his balance. He managed to crawl over to Alexander however without breaking eye contact, and Alexander continued to wink and _oh yes please_ … He pressed his lips to Alexander’s, and Alexander gave a muffled squeal of delight and eagerly pulled John closer to him.

Alexander kissed like he spoke, and while that observation indicated a rather strong oral fixation on the part of John, well…he chose to ignore that. Alexander was frantic, frenzied, unable to focus on one thing before moving on to the next – but just kissing was not enough. John had been without his feverishly fast lover for too many long nights – now to finally hold him, to kiss that sweet mouth, to be _alone_ with him…he needed more than kisses.

With a growl, John pushed Alexander down, Alexander’s back and head slamming against the wooden floor as John loomed over him. John knew that would likely bruise in the morning, but for now the action only served to make Alexander’s eyes fly open wide with shock and desire. A small whimper escaped from his mouth, his hand automatically moving upwards to rub his head. 

“Shh, shh…” soothed John, softly petting that shiny hair as his other hand made to undo his own shirt buttons. Alexander attempted to roll his eyes, but he was quickly distracted by John’s newly bare form. He audibly “mm’ed” in appreciation, and John teasingly waggled his hips – he loved this improper Alexander.

“How did you manage to secure this place as your new residence?” John whispered as he traced a dark peaked nipple with his index finger. Alexander was shivering deliciously beneath him but that did not stop him from smirking, looking as much as the arrogant, petulant aide as he ever did even with his necktie loose and shirt completely unbuttoned. “I am our General’s favorite after all – how am I expected to work if I lack appropriate secondary accommodations?” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. Well, if he was going to take on haughty airs, he could get a taste of his own medicine. 

Which right now consisted of John biting his earlobe. Alexander hissed with the sharp contact, and John then leaned back and kissed that smug twist of his mouth. Their lips slid wetly against each other as John fumbled with his own shirt buttons, eventually yanking it from his body. Alexander _growled_ at that and grasped John’s torso, trying to drag him down closer to him. Despite his precarious position of submission, Alexander kissed him almost ferociously as John leaned over him, his hand scratching John’s skin as he clutched the nape of his neck.

But John had other plans for the evening’s activities, and they did not all center around heavy frotting on the floor. He stood up, lifting Alexander simultaneously so that his slim legs wrapped around John’s waist. Lips never leaving Alexander’s throat, Alexander’s head tossed back with abandon and eyes closed with pleasure, John awkwardly brought them to the bed. 

He could not see past Alexander’s shuddering body, but when he felt the frame hit his shins, he threw Alexander on the mattress with a small grunt – the wine certainly did not help his physical coordination. But if Alexander noticed, he did not let on. On the contrary, he let out a sharp pant and lifted his hips enticingly, presenting his trembling form to the man above him. 

John yanked down Alexander’s breeches and stockings, fully exposing his naked form to the room, and made short work for his own. Alexander whimpered softly, his dark eyes focused on the undressing man above him.

When John was finally nude, he could feel Alexander’s appreciative gaze wander his form – but there was no time to bask in his ministrations. Alexander gasped at the sudden contact, which transformed into a gentle sob as John sucked down on the skin surrounding the pert nipple.

John watched in fascination as the man before him arched his back and spread his legs apart even further. He felt suddenly like Alexander was a present, waiting to be claimed. And as John clasped Alexander’s forearms down onto the bed, an overwhelming urge to claim came over him. 

He needed to mark, to own this remarkable man writhing underneath him. He softly traced Alexander’s neck with his mouth, heating him up as he traced the chafed skin underneath the necktie. He could feel Alexander writhing beneath him, clawing at his sides whenever John breathed hot air into an ear. Then John bit down on the soft flesh, and Alexander hissed, nails digging hard into John’s back. John groaned at the contrasting sensations of their naked cocks rubbing wetly against each other and the sharp pain on his back – but whatever this confusing feeling was, it caused him to want _more_.

Alexander seemed to be on the same page as his legs widened even further apart, his heels digging into the thin mattress, and John sucked hard around his pulsing neck. Their cocks slid against each other, the beginning fluids mixing as the heads collided against the other. John’s hand reached down to clasp both of them together, Alexander almost headbutting him in the process as his body curled reflexively upwards. 

But this is still not enough – John may be four bottles to the wind, but he knows that he does not want this to end anytime soon. And the simultaneous frotting and jerking (Alexander, ever petulant, swatted John’s hand away to take over the joint pulling at their cocks. Alexander’s nail accidentally scrapes against the head of John’s member, causing him to bite down in shock on Alexander’s chest, earning him another close-call headbutt.)

“Up,” John grunted, and Alexander easily rolled over onto his hands and knees, firm rear brazenly presented before John. His tight pink hole was so perfectly positioned in front of John’s face, the tight sac of Alexander’s manhood dangling just out of reach.

“Fuck.” John wanted to touch.

John knelt down to retrieve his breeches, fumbling with the pockets. He finally found the small jar of oil he had so thoughtfully packed with him and quickly anointed his cock with the slick. Looking down from his ministrations, he saw Alexander tilt his head to shoot him a cocky grin.

“Come _here_!” Alexander insisted, and waggled his ass invitingly.

It was too much – he looked so tempting, and John had been without him for so long. Maybe it was his suppressed libido, maybe it was the much-boosted confidence from the wine, but he needed to taste Alexander’s flavor. 

Without warning, John spread Alexander’s cheeks and suddenly licked with a broad tongue from his tight sac to the small of his back. Judging by Alexander’s immediate howl and clutching at his own cock, that action seemed to be one worth repeating. John ran his tongue back to that puckered hole, tracing around it slowly. Alexander’s hips snapped backwards as if he were trying to impale himself on John’s tongue, and John took the movement as an invitation to push his tongue past that tight ring of muscle, slowly fucking Alexander. He heard Alexander sob a “Yes…” and delved even further inside Alexander, pulling those narrow hips even closer to his own face.

The musky unique flavor, the delicious heat, the pure intimacy of the act was almost too overwhelming, and it was only when John nearly released without even touching his own cock that he stopped suckling at Alexander’s hole. He removed his mouth from Alexander’s rear to find his lover frantically pulling at his own member, his skin damp and prickled with gooseflesh.

He pushed Alexander’s hand away, earning him an exasperated “ _Hnngh_ ,” as John lined up the head of his cock with Alexander’s relaxed, flushed hole. He slowly began to press in, fighting that urge just to fuck, forcing himself to wait for Alexander’s cue. 

Finally Alexander gave him a quick nod of approval. Thrusting forward, John gave a sharp slap on Alexander’s flank and was rewarded with a sharp “ _Yesss_ …”

John answered him with another thrust and smack on that round behind, and once again Alexander groaned his approval.

“John…” gasped Alexander, head almost colliding with the headboard as John snapped his hips forward. “John, _pull_.”

Despite his wine-blurred mind, John knew what Alexander wanted. He reached over and clasped Alexander’s sweaty necktie, still hanging on somehow. Held in a loose grip, the necktie forced Alexander’s head more upright while still giving him the ability to breath (John felt a sharp urge to yank and see Alexander gasp, to struggle for breath before being allowed to inhale, but surely that was the wine talking…maybe that would be something worth exploring another time…).

Alexander seemed to enjoy that sensation however as his groans of pleasure increased in volume. His eyes were tightly shut, sweat trickled down his spine, and John kept thrusting into that hot body, hitting deep inside Alexander’s tight channel.

But the wine’s effects did not let up – and he had not released in some time – and John knew that he would be unable to last.

“Finish…Alex…” John choked out, and with a cry of relief, Alexander’s hand flew to his cock and began jerking furiously. His movements were hampered by both his head’s awkward angle and his balancing on his knees and one arm, and his body jolted sporadically between his hand and John’s hips.

Suddenly Alexander’s hips jerked forward, only restrained by John’s hand (the other still occupied in keeping Alexander’s head up by the necktie), and judging by that pleased cry, John knew he had spilled onto the bed.

The sensation of Alexander’s orgasm on his own cock, the image of Alexander’s bruised neck and behind, his flushed cheeks…John could not hold on for much longer. His orgasm hit hard and fast, causing his body to tense up in pleasure. Hot ejaculate shot out of his cock deep within Alexander who was spasming around him.

When he finally fully spent, John slowly pulled out of Alexander, the latter grumbling slightly with the discomfort of removal. He fell limply beside his lover, aware but simply too exhausted to care that he now lay in Alexander’s drying release on the sheets. Alexander meanwhile languidly stretched his body like a cat, arms raised above his head with his knees and ankles cracking. He turned towards John with a silly, sleepy smile on his face and pressed a soft kiss against John’s damp temple.

John’s eyelids were already too heavy to focus on Alexander, his throat too thick with wine and exhaustion. He could only let out a soft mumble before drifting off, Alexander curled up him with a similar soft expression.


End file.
